


Having a Shower

by Anonymous



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Bestiality, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, No Dialogue, Other, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: For an anon wholikes the idea of Dylan moaning while he's filled everywhere by tentacles, maybe with an audience.





	Having a Shower

In the last period of the game, he gets checked into the boards, loses his footing and goes down sliding. Something cracks in his bones upon the impact, making flashes of light appear beneath his eyelids as he struggles to get back up on his skates. His right shoulder is on fire.

There is no fracture, just the soaring pain.

The medical check-up after the match takes forever and when he returns to the locker room, the team is already gone.

Dylan lowers his head and twists so that the hot stream of water massages his back. His hair gets wet, the ends curling flatly against the nape of his neck. The water is so hot it turns his skin pink.

He hums under his breath, tilting his head to one side and letting the water hit the sore muscles.

He’d already washed off the sweat from the game, now he’s just indulging himself. He pours some shower gel into his palm and massages his scalp. The artificial smell of a fresh ocean breeze fills his nostrils. Thick, soapy bubbles form in his hair, getting mixed with the water and sliding down his neck, over his back, following the path down until catching on the curve of his ass, then changing their course and swirling around his legs.

The bubbles start getting to his face so Dylan tips his head back, letting the clean water rinse the gel. He closes his eyes and breaths slowly through his nose.

Dylan’s fingers gingerly probe at the juncture between his neck and his right shoulder. He hisses, stroking his fingers along the muscles, trying to knead out some of the tension.

The water drain gurgles under his feet. It’s gotten a little clogged, Dylan’s noticed over the past few days. The water tends to pool around his feet instead of disappearing down the drain.

Dylan spreads his legs a little so he’s not standing directly on the drain and blocking it even more.

There comes another gurgle.

Then Dylan feels it.

A warm touch on his ankle.

He startles and jerks away from the touch but it follows after him. Dylan blinks his eyes open and his breath hitches.

The grid of the water drain is unscrewed and from the gaping hole are raising tentacles. Black as night, lean and agile, all reaching for Dylan.

He’s too shocked to move away.

The tentacles grip him tight. Dylan can feel the slight sting as the suckers latch onto his skin.

There is an embarrassing, high-pitched noise that escapes him. He can only stare down, watching the tentacles come out of the drain and wrap around his ankles, his calves and his thighs. A few of them reach even higher and grab his hands.

Two thin tentacles stretch up above him from behind, then they come down to grip his nose, each hooking to a different nostril and hauling back. Dylan can only throw his head back as well, following the insistent pull.

His eyes shoot up to watch the ceiling above him and his lips part automatically. The tentacles take a full advantage, ravishing his mouth. There are so many of them and it’s so invasive that Dylan can’t help the pitiful moan he makes when he feels his lips stretch to accommodate them. His lips are prone to chap and it’s not a surprise when Dylan tastes blood on his tongue, bleeding slightly from where the lips are stretched too far.

A tentacle forces its way between his legs and Dylan clenches his ass, tensing up.

The tentacles around his legs shift and Dylan feels himself sliding on the wet tiles, his legs being pushed apart.

The tentacle is back to probing at his entrance. Dylan’s lanky frame arches against the pressure.

Another tentacle reaches up, slithering up over his chest to grab at his chin. The tentacles that are busy fucking themselves into Dylan’s mouth seem to sense its presence and part to make way for the newcomer to slip in.

Dylan’s jaw is forced to open up even more. The tentacle slips into his mouth. Its texture is less rough. It doesn’t have the suckers and it keeps rubbing against his tongue for several endless moments. Dylan’s attempts at avoiding the touch are futile.

Then it decides to go even further in, gagging him, sliding down his tongue, down his throat.

Dylan tries to whimper but it’s either that his vocal cords aren’t working or the tentacle is blocking the path of the sound. He sharply lets out some air through his nose, causing a small snort.

The tentacles surrounding him cling to him even more tightly.

For a few panicky moments Dylan thinks he’s going to choke but then he realizes that he can still breathe through his nose. He doesn’t have time to be calmed by that because the pressure in his throat becomes even greater and Dylan feels something move inside of the tentacle. He has to swallow around it, which nearly makes his ears pop. It continues on its way, pushing through the tentacle that is currently lodged in Dylan’s throat, down into his stomach.

It’s painful and frightening but Dylan can’t move away. He is held tightly by the tentacles, no chance of wrenching himself away.

The tentacles coiled around his waist seem to increase the pressure of their suckers, reaching to grab his buttocks and spreading them, making it easier for the probing tentacle to push into him. It does so without being considerate of Dylan’s protests.

Suddenly, there is more room in his mouth as the remaining tentacles slip out, leaving only the one blocking his throat. It is keeping his velum slightly raised, allowing the air to flow through his nose. When he moans, it makes the sound distinctively nasal.

The tentacle that forces itself into his ass seems to be determined to impale him. The deep thrusts leave a burning sensation behind and make him feel too full. Every time his hips jerk up it leaves him moaning, trying to get more friction. It’s his body responding in kind to the abuse, it’s his body that’s betraying him.

The tentacle slows down when it notices the change in him. Once he’s desperate for it, it stops being so giving and starts teasing him. The thrusts become shallow, not as satisfying, and the tentacle then withdraws completely only to slip back into him with a maddening slowness.

His nostrils flaring, his body quivering, Dylan tries to bring himself lower to the ground, closer to the tentacles, eager to get filled and fucked.

His head is twisted upwards and as he gasps, some of the water from the shower falls onto his face, spilling into his mouth which he can’t close because of the tentacle that is still enjoying constricting his throat. The water gathers in his mouth and mixes with his spit before spilling out, streaking down his cheeks and his neck and his shoulders.

One tentacle tugs at his right arm and though he knows it’s pain that slices through him, the sensation is welcome. He’s so aroused that anything the tentacles make him feel is good. There are no bad moves, just more or less satisfying ones.

The tentacle picks up a bit more speed and the angle is finally right. Dylan keeps making weak, muffled moans.

He is so far gone that he never hears someone coming into the showers.

It’s just him and the tentacles, and Dylan is determined to get an orgasm out of this. The tentacles are a damn cock-tease and they won’t let him touch himself, keeping his hands away from his crotch, preferring to stroke him themselves. They keep changing the pace to match the thrust of the tentacle that is fucking him and it’s driving him crazy. Just when he is about to come, the tentacles let go of his cock. His cock is heavy and straining for a release, the heat pooling into his gut is unbearable. He lets out a choked, frustrated sound.

“Dylan…”

The sound of his name jolts through him. Dylan strains to tilt his head sideways to see the source of the voice, renewing the pain in his shoulder, because the two tentacles are still keeping his head bent backwards by his nose. The pain only registers as pleasure and Dylan moans again.

Dylan isn’t able to form any words in reply. The tentacle chooses the moment to jerk inside of him, brushing against all the right spots and Dylan can’t focus his thoughts.

It’s a shock to see anyone else in there with him, let alone his linemate.

Dylan can’t find his voice and his teammate seems to be at a loss of words as well. The tentacles are completely nonplussed, carrying on as if they were never interrupted.

Dylan sees the way his teammate’s pupils are dilated, the way his mouth is hanging open and how his tongue licks his lips in an unwitting, hungry movement. The tenting of the thin fabric of the boxers doesn’t escape Dylan’s notice either.

His cheeks flush with shame but there is nothing, nothing that he can do.

The tentacle pounds into him until he’s pushed over the edge and coming hard onto his own stomach and on the tiles of the shower, the water rinsing it out nearly instantly.


End file.
